


to pull a heart apart, strand by strand

by spacemagic



Series: daughter of the suns [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Anakin is a girl, Ficlet, Gen, I have no idea why braiding is such a consistent theme in my work but it is, Trans Female Character, and so is Kenobi, f!Anakin, f!Obi-Wan, trans!Obi-Wan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemagic/pseuds/spacemagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd never admit it to her face, not in a million years, but Obi-Wan has the prettiest hair that Anakin has ever seen. </p><p>As for Obi-Wan, she is slightly bemused when her new padawan offers to braid it for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to pull a heart apart, strand by strand

She was sad, and cold, her new master. She sits in shade as still as a stone and watches the morning grow.

She says ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, and insists Anakin do the same. She rations her smiles as if they don’t quite belong on her face.

Obi-Wan is nothing like anyone Anakin has ever met before.

 

-

 

There are days which are heavier than others. On the worst of these, Obi-wan barely has enough in her to do more than plait her hair each morning.

Worn loose, her hair trails far past her shoulders, spilling along her back. It's a small vanity, perhaps, given the effort required to maintain it - she usually keeps it in a circlet of braids high above her head anyhow, somehow untouched by the lofty thoughts of the council.

_(that was one of qui-gon’s old jokes, of course – distinct in its oddity and its severe lack of humour.)_

She stiffened, reminding herself of where she was.

The Jedi kept few possessions. Luxury is beyond their remit; duty is what remains in their hands before all else, always. Her hands now pull through tangles and clutch limp strands of copper as she prepares to bury herself in meditation. Thin, too thin, in her fingers. Obi-Wan had expected to cut this along with everything else when she achieved knighthood – it was too long now. Too much for her.

She hadn’t gotten round to it yet.

 

-

 

She had the prettiest hair Anakin has ever seen.

Not like she’d ever actually _tell her_ that much. Of course she’d never tell her.

It was this gentle copper colour – and soft, it looked so silky to touch (could she touch it? she wonders what it feels like).

Obi-Wan mostly piles it out of the way. She looks at it like a nuisance. Something that is not hers.

Anakin doesn’t quite understand – yet.

 

-

 

 

When Anakin asked to help braid Obi-wan Kenobi’s hair for the first time, it was on one of the heaviest mornings. Where the clouds had sunk to her knees and she couldn’t really breathe without thinking – without dreaming – that she could be somewhere else. With someone else. Obi-Wan knew that a round of meditation would snap her back into focus soon enough. That hard work and a hot shower would sharpen her up – if not Anakin dragging her out of bed, with her kicking screaming (an amusing, if rather undignified image, and an option she had honestly considered far too many times).

Even so. It was so hard to feel anything but dead weight at first.

 

So when Anakin offered to _assist_ , of all things, she honestly thought her padawan was joking.

 

‘Why would you bother?’ she asked, with a hint of exasperation.

 

There was a scowl on her padawan’s face. It quickly disappeared at soon as she realised Obi-Wan was paying attention. ‘I want to be useful,’ said Anakin with half a shrug.

 

She wanted to do more than just sit still, more like.

 

It would not hurt, though.

 

‘Fine,’ Obi-wan said. She supposed there was no reason to be skittish. She just wasn’t used to letting someone else’s fingers run through what little was hers. What was theirs, now.

 

 

-

 

Anakin asks her if her mother ever braided her hair for her. Obi-Wan does not know how to respond to the question.

 

-

 

 

It’s a mess at first. Knotty braids which are piled together with a few haphazard hairpins. Obi-Wan says nothing, of course. It’s serviceable enough for what work needed to be done, and no respectable Jedi pays much mind to mere appearances.

(not her)

She busies herself with completing mission reports for the council. Anakin has a full block of classes for once, so she’s lacking company. It astounds her how quiet it is without her: how noisy her wordless tinkering or pacing or experimenting is, how it echoes. Still difficult to concentrate. She’ll practice some katas later that day.

She’s half way through her third cup of tea that day. It’s a warm mid-afternoon. To her surprise, she realises actually doesn’t mind. The hair, that is. The more she thinks on it, the more she thinks she’ll ask Anakin to help again.

 

-

 

It was softer than she had expected. But it felt like it was going to break apart.

 

-

 

On the second attempt, she offers some verbal guidance:

‘You should pull on each section more tightly. Otherwise it’ll easily come undone.’

Anakin paused. A small voice: ‘Won’t it hurt?’

‘Don’t let that concern you.’

Anakin ignores her.

It’s still an utter mess.

 

-

 

Always wilful, Obi-Wan’s padawan is. Nothing if not disobedient.

 

Anakin doesn’t take much notice of the words. They’re the markings of a terrible slave. She hides a smirk behind a scowl.

 

It was still as soft today.

 

-

 

 

In time comes routine:

 

They wake as the sun cracks through the window.

 

Obi-Wan boils water in her kettle. She makes enough tea for two. Anakin thinks it's disgusting, but she drinks it anyway.

 

They meditate before breakfast because Obi-Wan absolutely _insists_. Anakin at first tries to bargain over exactly how long they have to meditate as if she's trying to haggle over a second-hand hyperdrive motivator on Mos Epsa. Obi-wan is not amused by this display.

 

Obi-wan is nothing like anyone Anakin's ever met before and she thinks that's a good thing.

 

It's _always_ twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of sitting still and becoming completely _empty_.

 

Anakin calls her incorrigible. Her master is faintly amused (and a little proud, now) that she knows the meaning of the word. It's better than those Huttese slurs she flung at her at first. Obi-Wan wishes she didn't know what they meant (always girls. always about tearing girls apart. hurting girls.)

 

They eat quietly.

 

Obi-Wan fusses over her dying flowers by the kitchen window (she can barely grow anything of her own and her padawan seems content to let her self-sabotage). Anakin clears her plate if she's not looking. (Obi-Wan always notices, but says nothing).

 

Their favourite moment of the morning routine is the same.

 

Anakin sits behind her master, carefully brushing her hair into equal sections. Her hands are quick, methodical, in focus. Obi-Wan wonders how different this is to her than disassembling a machine. She barely speaks as she does this.

 

‘Pull more tightly, please.’

She’d let Anakin pull everything away if she could.

Anakin doesn’t ever listen to her, though.

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> I said this would be a series of 3 but I wanted to write more about Anakin & Obi-Wan's relationship, since that's the most important and most neglected aspect of the prequels. #2 will focus on Padmé and #3 will focus on pregnancy and evil dreams, so Obi-Wan doesn't figure much. Which isn't fair on Obi-Wan at all. 
> 
> Also, I reconsidered, and Obi-Wan is female in this universe after all - everyone else's gender is unchanged. (If I'd thought this out more I would have had her transition between fics and referenced it directly in this). If you're lucky, I'll write the Padmé ficlet by tomorrow, and in time for femslash february. You probably won't be lucky.
> 
> Look, I just love hair, okay?


End file.
